


Musical Instruments

by magneticdice



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1458172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticdice/pseuds/magneticdice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After talking to Lip and Debbie about playing musical instruments, Ian tells Mickey his idea too. (Filler fic, set right after the Gallaghers decide to look for Fiona at Robbie's place but before Mickey goes to work/gets robbed by Kev with his own gun.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musical Instruments

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted anything for a while, and I wrote this while procrastinating from finishing my Big Bang fic. It was going to be a short drabble and kind of ballooned into an actual almost one-shot. I dunno...

# Musical Instruments

Mickey poured himself another cup of coffee and sat back down at the Gallagher’s kitchen table. The room still smelled like the pancakes they’d had that morning. “Yo, d’you find your sister yet?” He glanced at the living room and could see the oldest Gallagher sitting on the couch, pouring himself over a stack of books.

Ian looked over his shoulder at Mickey while getting a can of soda out from the fridge. “No… No luck. No one’s heard from her, but Debs had the idea to check with her ex’s brother‒you know, the one who gave her the coke. I got his address and we’re gonna go look there as soon as Debbie gets out of the shower.”

“Sounds like you got a plan then,” Mickey said, taking a sip of his hot drink. “Will I see you later?”

Ian came to sit beside Mickey and put the soda can and his plate onto the table. “You goin’ back to work?”

Mickey nodded. “Gotta have a little chat with Kev about the fucking rent, but I’m gonna stop at home first and gets some clothes for Mandy. I don’t want her seein’ that asshole Kenyatta if she doesn’t have to.”

“Is _she_ there?” Ian asked accusingly, not having to say who “she” was. He sounded so jealous when he asked it, and Mickey couldn’t help but be a little _happy_ about that. Ian‒no, his _boyfriend‒_ even if they hadn't explicitly defined their relationship yet‒was jealous, and instead of making him angry, it made him feel proud and wanted.

“At my house?” Mickey clarified, one eyebrow raised. Ian nodded stiffly at him, and Mickey sighed, knowing he couldn’t get away with not answering the question, however stupid it was. “She better not fuckin’ be there‒’cause that’d mean the bitch ain’t workin’.”

“So who’s watching your son?” Ian pressed.

Mickey bit his bottom lip, not knowing how to answer. His first thought had been to correct Ian‒to tell him that Yevgeny wasn’t his son‒but that wasn’t necessarily true. The baby was his wife’s son, and that made him his son too, for all intents and purposes. Truth be told, Mickey had no idea if the boy was his or not, despite the odds.

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I think she took him to work.”

He watched Ian for his reaction, bracing himself for an argument. The redhead smiled then, his eyes practically sparkling, and just like that, Mickey could see that the jealousy was gone, replaced by another excited idea.

“When I have kids, I’m gonna teach them how to play musical instruments. You know how great it would be to have a skill like that? To have the talent to be able to make something beautiful with just your hands and an instrument? I was just telling Lip how we should all learn to play something‒be able to express ourselves. I’ve always wanted to be able to play the guitar. Maybe I’ll give it a try...”

Mickey laughed at him. “Guitar, ey? When’re you gonna have time to do that? In between suckin’ off old dudes at the club? Or maybe after another one of  your 5am jogs?”

“Just because you don’t appreciate the art of knowing how to play a musical instrument doesn’t mean‒”

Mickey bristled at the accusation. “Who says I don’t?”

“You do?” Ian put down the sandwich he’d made and stared at him intently.

Mickey shrugged again, regretting the fact that he even brought it up. He didn’t like to talk about it, but knowing Ian, the redhead was never going to drop the subject until he knew everything.

“I can play the piano,” he admitted.

Ian’s jaw hung open slightly in an incredulous smile, as if he was one of those cartoon characters that finds out something shocking. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“No,” he said casually, taking another sip of his coffee. It was a perfect temperature now.

Ian sat up and leaned in closer towards Mickey. “How?”

“I learned when I was a kid.”

“How?” Ian repeated.

“My mom taught me.”

“C’mon, you gotta give me more than that.”

Mickey let out a breath and leaned back in his chair, putting the mug on the table. “My mom used to play the piano. She learned when she was a kid and she was really good. She taught me how to play until I was eight years old‒said it was in my blood‒that I was a natural. Then one year, she entered me in some bullshit recital. I had to learn and perform my favorite song. I remember being so nervous that the only way she could convince me to perform was by turning the piano around so that I could play with my back to the audience, staring at a wall.”

Ian gave him a smile, obviously liking Mickey’s story. “So why’d you stop playing?”

“She died,” he said, bluntly. “Dad sold the piano two days later.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ian thoughtfully sipping at his juice and eating his breakfast.

“We have a piano.”

Mickey cocked his head to the side, still watching his boyfriend, not sure where this was going.

“I noticed.”

“Frank’s the only one who can play it though,” Ian amended.

Mickey could tell Ian was choosing his words carefully. When he didn’t comment, Ian stood and walked so that he was standing behind him. He put his arms on Mickey’s shoulders and slowly slid them down until his mouth was beside Mickey’s ear.

“What do I have to do to get you to play me something?” he whispered before gently sucking on Mickey’s earlobe. The soft breath from his words combined with the wet, warm feeling of Ian’s tongue on his skin sent a shiver down Mickey’s back.

He grabbed Ian suddenly and spun the taller boy around, bringing him crashing onto his lap, banging into the table and jostling everything on it in the process. Ian recovered quickly, grabbing Mickey’s shoulders once again and hungrily kissing him on the lips.

“ _I can see you!_ ” Lip shouted from the living room, interrupting them.

Mickey pulled away and blushed, having forgotten that his boyfriend’s brother was even there.

Ian gave him a mocking pout. “So you’ll make out with me in front of a club full of strangers but you won’t kiss me in front of my brother?”

Mickey scowled at the younger boy, bringing his hand up to rub at his bottom lip nervously. “How ‘bout you drop the fuckin’ act?” he countered.

Ian grinned and stood up, grabbing Mickey by the hand and pulling him to his feet. “Come upstairs with me.” It was an order, not a request.

“I thought you said you were leaving right after Debbie showered?”

“Yeah, well, she’s a girl…” Ian reasoned. “It’s gonna take her a while to dry her hair. Plenty of time for me to convince you to play something for me on the piano…”

Mickey laughed, ignoring the disapproving look Lip threw in their direction, and let Ian lead him up the stairs without argument.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Noel Fisher’s quote about playing the piano.
> 
> **Edit: I'm gonna write a sequel because everyone seemed to like it.**


End file.
